Blues and Twos
by drummore
Summary: I guess it's a continuation of 'All of the Night'...a whole heap of sentimental old slush.
1. Trust me, I'm a doctor

_Disclaimer: If it sounds familiar, it belongs to someone else. _

**BLUES AND TWOS**

Trust me, I'm a doctor

Flack had called Angell earlier that morning, knowing that she'd be fed up and suggesting they meet for lunch at the end of his shift. Initially the date was going to be just the two of them but somehow it escalated into lunch with Stella, who in turn invited Mac, and Lindsay, who in turn called Danny, and Hawkes.

The table was full and she was the last to arrive, although Lucy Messer's chatter was keeping everyone suitably entertained. Glancing at his watch, Flack looked towards the door again, sighing with relief when Jess finally waddled towards them, bundled up in thick February layers.

She'd never fully regained the weight she lost after the shooting, and despite eating for two with gusto, the pounds she'd put on during pregnancy were all baby; leaving her tiny with an enormous, but very neat, bump. As she squeezed into the space at the table Danny's eyes widened, oblivious to all the daggers thrown and the elbow dug firmly in his ribs, exclaiming "Jeez Angell! It's like you've got an elephant in there! How can you _still_ be lugging it around?"

Turning, Jess glowered at Flack before darkening her look for Danny. "Four days Messer! Flack's baby was due _four_ days ago. Trust me when I say, I'm not exactly thrilled to still be 'lugging it around'!"

Lindsay nodded sympathetically, shooting Danny a glare of her own, "I know it's not much consolation at the moment but I promise – it's so worth the wait."

She snorted, muttering "Up until my millionth bathroom trip of the morning I _might_ have believed that," but leaned into Flack as he pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered "Hey gorgeous."

:-:

Lindsay squinted at the expectant couple, "You guys seriously don't know what you're having?!

Nope," Flack shook his head, a little tired of having to constantly justify their decision to not want to know if it was a 'Flack' or 'Flackette' that Jess was carrying.

Exchanging an equally bemused look with the Montanan CSI, Stella griped "But I have a whole heap of cute little outfits picked out and I need to know which ones to buy! Pink or blue? Which reminds me – I still haven't quite forgiven you for being so pissy about a shower."

Flack shot the two women a look and opened his mouth to change the subject. Baby showers were a contentious issue in Jess' mind; although she knew they were tradition, she found the whole concept quite bizarre. Before he got a chance to speak, Jess sighed, "I wasn't 'pissy' about a shower, I just think they're weird. Having a party and getting a whole heap of gifts before you actually have the baby is just tempting fate. If people want to buy stuff, then it's way more sensible for them to actually know who they're buying for. And as for not knowing?" She met Don's eyes and they exchanged a private dreamy look, "There aren't many surprises left in this world and so long as this one is healthy - and hurries up - we're more than happy."

:-:

"A bumpy road." Mac suddenly offered after their orders had been taken. Shrugging a little as everyone stared at him in bewilderment, he clarified "Driving along a bumpy road can allegedly bring on labor."

Peering at her belly, Jess dryly noted "Well, the fuc…cabbie that drove me over hit every hole in the road but I'm yet to see any results."

"Spicy food?" Stella suggested.

Flack groaned, "Nuh-uh, tried it; Mexican, Thai, Indian and Mexican again last night. Mother and baby were not impressed, and all it brought on was heartburn...which was obviously my fault."

Snickering, Lindsay confidently pronounced 'Mac and Cheese, in the blue box' to be the answer. Gesticulating to her daughter she nodded, "Worked with her."

The table fell silent again as the old wives tales were considered until Hawkes quietly supplied, "Sex. The female orgasm produces oxytocin which contracts the uterus and stimulates contractions. Plus the prostaglandins in semen both contract the uterus and thin the cervix. All in all, it's possibly a very effective way of inducing labor."

Danny growled, leaning to hold his hands over Lucy's ears, "Hawkes! Do not _ever_ use words like that in my daughter's presence again. Jeez!" While Jess turned to glower at him, "Yeah, sure Sheldon. Like I'm going to repeat the very thing that got me into this predicament? Think again wise guy!"

Winking at Flack, Hawkes nodded, "S-E-X. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

:-:

Much to Jess' amusement, her dark haired Detective took a circuitous route home, traversing the bumpiest roads he could find before stopping at the grocery store to purchase a box of the recommended Mac and Cheese along with a packet of jalapeno kettle chips. Laughing, Flack teased "I liked Hawkes' suggestion, but since I don't want to get you into another 'predicament', I'm helping you give the others a go."

As they stood together in the bathroom later that night, him in sweats slung low on his hips and her in his button down shirt, they both stared expectantly at her belly. "Anything?" he asked, hopefully.

Yawning widely, Jess gave him a tired smile before dropping her head to his shoulder, "Nope, Little Flack still seems quite happy in here."

He cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly before bending to press a kiss to the bump. "Hey little one," Flack crooned, "Your Mommy and I love you, and we're really looking forward to meeting you. She's getting kind of cranky though kiddo, so you might want to think about putting in an appearance soon..." beaming as he was rewarded with a gentle kick.

Letting his hands smooth over her belly, he traced across her stretched scar, before lazily brushing the swell of her breast. Although she'd scorned at the suggestion earlier, Jess moaned in pleasure at his touch, shifting closer. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his newly buzzed hair and brushed her thumbs along his jaw line, before pulling his lips down to hers.

:-:

The aroma of freshly baked brownies caused his belly to rumble. Rolling over as it rumbled for a second time, Flack inhaled deeply as lasagna blending with brownies. Food dreams were some of the best. His eyes drifted open and when he could still smell food, his brow furrowed as he realized it was the middle of the night and not a normal time for cooking.

"Jess?" He watched her finish turning the brownies from their baking tray and slice them into neat squares, and as she then flicked through a recipe book for inspiration. "Honey? Why you cooking at 4am?"

"This is a first!" she smirked, "Don Flack questioning why I'm making him tasty treats? You feeling okay dude?!"

Making a face at her mockery, Flack pulled her into his arms. In a moment, her smart comments and the laden countertop were forgotten as he rested his forehead against hers and caressed her belly; once again in awe of the miracle she was performing. "I still can't quite believe you're growing _our_ baby in there Jessie. It's amazing! You've got a whole brand new little person inside you!"

Jess pressed her lips to his, "And I still can't quite believe that a little person is going to come out of me. You sure you're okay that we didn't decide to find out?"

The preference of a son or daughter was something Flack truly didn't have. The idea of a son – someone to carry on the family name and take to his first ball game – was mind-blowing. But a daughter – looking just like Jess and destined to become a Daddy's girl – filled him with different feelings. He knew that Jess was convinced she was carrying a boy. And he knew the prospect of a daughter somewhat terrified her. "I don't know anything about girls," she'd panicked, "I had Transformers instead of Barbie dolls, I played shortstop instead of joining Girl Scouts…If we have a daughter, she'll want to take ballet classes and like playing princess and I know damn all about that sort of stuff!" Despite Jess' confidence that she was going to deliver a son, Flack was sure that it was actually a daughter.

Nodding his head, Flack grinned broadly. "I'm more than okay with it. I just want you," he kissed her, "and this baby," he kissed her again, "to be happy and healthy and here with me."

Her fingers stroking through the short hair on the back of his head was so soothing that his eyes began drifting closed again, his mind filling temporarily with thoughts of food and not of their child. "J? Why _are _you going crazy with the cooking?" Her shrugged reply was a suspiciously quiet response.

"Think we'll be okay at this Donnie? Being a Mommy and Daddy? What happens if we screw our kid up? If it gets covered in tats, or does lousy at school, or becomes a pill popper or joy-rider or…"

His look only briefly halted her words. "But we might! Two cops with a bomb and a shooting between us, and we see more crap in one afternoon than the average person sees in a whole lifetime."

"But you have tats," Flack pointed out automatically, before being silenced by her shoving a square of brownie into his mouth. "Jess, I promise, we'll be fine," he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, "You'll be the greatest Mommy ever – even if you have to learn about tutus and tiaras and stuff – and our baby will turn out 100% smart, well adjusted and crime free."

Jess tugged on her bottom lip nervously before fitting herself the best she could against his body, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "Donnie?" Her voice was small and tinged with tears, "One of the lab rats was right."

"Huh?" Flack breathed, caught up more in his own thoughts and the feel of her body in his arms, than her words.

"It's started. I know the midwife said I should try to get some sleep but I couldn't, so I cooked and…I can't believe the lab rats were right."

His eyes had been bugging and he'd been bouncing anxiously on his toes since the word 'midwife' left her lips, the only reason he hadn't spoken was because Jess swiftly supplied another square of brownie. "You're in labor? Now! Our baby's coming? Now!"

Nodding apprehensively, she griped his hand and sucked in her breath, before agreeing "Uh-huh. Our baby's coming, now."

:-:-:


	2. The summer that never was

_Disclaimer: If it sounds familiar, it's not mine._

_A/N: I had a plan for this but, like my current life, it changed...dramatically. Hello nameless little nephew (damn living on the other side of the Atlantic! I want a wee cuddle!) and hello 'temporary' transfer to Las Vegas. If anyone has any suggestions for top ideas for the bright lights (that'll keep me out out of the heat and away from the casinos) then a handful of Tootsie Rolls and a slug of Boomerang vodka will be yours! Anyhoo, it turns out that Flack and Angell are going back to a post Pay Up/pre smart arse Hawkes time. In big girl fiction world, I think means Chapter 1 is a prologue and this the start of things..._

* * *

The summer that never was

Flack barely noticed the summer season of Angell's shooting. One minute, he was able to comfortably head out in the evening with just shirt sleeves and the next, he was back to wearing countless layers. By the time the temperature dropped low enough to cover the city in frost, Jess was back in the Squad Room; the scars on her belly had healed, her Purple Shield was tucked away in a dresser drawer and home cooked meals weren't made with quite the regularity as they once were.

:-:

A summer of sick pay and medical expenses had resulted in Jess' MasterCard taking a serious beating and, watching her blanch at the statement over breakfast one morning, Flack suggested using the cash they'd bagged in the Crime Lab's Messer baby book.

"No way!" She shook her head firmly, "You're a very sweet man for offering but firstly, I'm not a charity case and secondly, we had plans for that six hundred bucks. Remember? We're going to lie on a tropical beach and get up no good."

Smiling fondly at the memory, he nodded "And we'll still lie on that beach sometime, I promise. But right now Jessie, I'd prefer that you weren't broke."

"I'm not 'broke'...I just to need hope a hell of a lot of overtime comes my way.

:-:

In the months following her return, Jess got her wish. A crime spree in the city led to all hands on deck and an abundance of overtime; the only saving grace being that the extra bucks in her monthly pay slip helped pay off a sizeable chunk of the credit card bill.

Christmas and New Year were virtually non starters. With sick leave and vacation days all used up, both Detectives were scheduled to work throughout the festive period. Entering into the Holiday spirit, the Captain took the view that providing scenes were attended, cases were cracked and paperwork was filed, he didn't mind if his homicide squad did it sitting at their desk or around a tree. Taking advantage of the Captain's new policy, the pair managed most of the way through the Angell family Christmas Eve dinner – eating the dessert that was parceled up when a call came sometime around dawn – and all of his sister-in-law's Christmas dinner. Driving across the city to watch Jess load the final brawling reveler into the back of a squad car, Flack pulled her aside and brought in the New Year with a chaste kiss and a fiercely whispered "I love you Jessica Angell." before disappearing back to deal with the aftermath of a fatal stabbing.

:-:

The late January night was bitterly cold and dark when Flack appeared at her desk, her gloomy mood at the relentless winter and continuing crime spree clearly evident. "So, am I a good boyfriend or what?!"

Barely glancing up, Jess gave a disinterested sigh and then a shrug "Yeah, you're all right I guess."

"How about now?!" he laughed, waving a steaming Styrofoam cup and paper bag under her nose.

With the aroma of vanilla latte and gingerbread too much to resist, she looked up, giving him the beginning of a smile "Yeah, you're getting better."

"How about when I tell you I've managed to arrange that our time off extends to five consecutive days next week and that we'll be spending them doing something _very_ nice outside of the tri-state area?!"

The broad grin Jess gave him and the sparkle in her eye said it all.

:-:

Flack intended to tell Jess what he'd planned straight away but swiftly decided it was far more fun to taunt her with mystery. "I can make you talk Don," she growled, "I've done it plenty of times before!" Jess pulled out an impressive variety of tricks and bribes, badgering "Where _are _we going?" but after providing enough information for her to base her wardrobe choices on, Flack held out until the airport.

"Aruba?" Jess squeaked, clapping her hands, as he finally handed over a print out of her boarding pass, "Yay! Donnie, you star!"

He was always amazed to discover that flying with the woman he loved actually made it a tolerable experience. Taking his sneakers off to pass through security wasn't so bad when Jess was waiting for him at the other side, holding them out with a grin and a kiss. And the aircraft wasn't so cramped when she sat next to him, finding a Ranger's game on the little seatback TV then nestling close while she read.

When they finally reached the hotel room Jess squealed, hopping into his arms and teasing that he was "…a pretty damn good boyfriend after all," before disappearing to return moments later wearing the most mind blowing bikini. Initially self-conscious of publically displaying her war wounds, Jess' concerns vanished, much to Flack's annoyance, when a group of Ivy League poster boys made it clear they – and her – were the hottest thing they'd ever seen.

The detecting duo did a whole lot of nothing for three days; sleeping late, sleeping together, lying on the beach (where looking at her in skimpy swimwear made Flack think about doing things that'd make even Jess blush) and long lazy dinners.

:-:

It was late morning and the sun was already scorching as they lay on the sand; the cool breeze had faded and the only noise was the waves breaking.

"I'm hot," Jess suddenly announced, letting her book drop onto the towel.

Flack propped himself up on his elbows, surveying her. She'd darkened to a sun kissed bronze with a sprinkling of freckles on her shoulders and, clad only in a simple black two piece with shades, her skin sparkled. Leaning over, he inhaled the sweet mix of sunshine and sunscreen, before dropping a lazy kiss on the swell of her breast, "Jess, baby, you are fucking hot. But most people would just think it's kind of big headed of you to brag!"

Lifting her head, Jess peered at him over the top of the dark glasses before poking her tongue out at his teasing.

As they ambled back to the hotel, Popsicles in hand, Flack watched as she ate. She'd already nibbled away half of the lemon flavored frozen treat and was proceeding to suck the juice from ice so it turned white. As her tongue darted out to catch a drip about to fall to her hand, he felt his cock twitch.

Jess' free hand was linked with his and she squeezed, "So, you want to go look at a lighthouse this afternoon? It's meant to be pretty." He looked blankly at her, completely oblivious to what she'd been talking about since their stop for snacks. "Have you heard anything I've been saying?" she smirked, taking another slurp of Popsicle. As he felt his cheeks begin to burn, Flack busied himself with his own melting ice pop.

Rounding the corner and entering the coolness of their room, Jess grinned slyly, stretching up on tip toes to brush her lips to his, "Your blushing is dangerous Flack…gets us into _all_ sorts of trouble." Confusion flashed over his face before he was distracted by her hot, barely clad body pressing against his and her hands trailing low on his hips.

:-:

"What did you mean my 'blushing is dangerous'?" Flack questioned a little indignantly, stretching out to catch a trickle of oil from Angell's chin and licking it from his finger. They sat at the foot of the lighthouse, eating garlicky shrimps on the Trattoria deck and watching the sun set over the ocean. "And what do you mean it 'gets us into all sorts of trouble'?"

Her own cheeks pinked a little and she coolly took a mouthful of wine. "Well Jess?" he probed with a smirk.

Sighing, Jess rolled her eyes "Remember Amber Stanton?" He frowned as she continued, "Annoying publisher, went down for the Bentley case a year or so back?"

"Oh yeah…that woman really pissed me off" Flack nodded, then laughed, "You were still being mean and picking on me in those days Angell!" His laughter softened and he abandoned his earlier questions, "Why _did_ you come out with me that night Jess? You always acted like you thought I was a real jerk until then"

"I didn't think you were a jerk!"

Jess grinned as he raised an eyebrow, "Okay, maybe a little bit of a jerk at the start."

Her cheeks flushed a little more and her grin softened into tender gaze, "You blushed when I called you out in the car that day and it was…so damn cute." She caught his eye, shrugging, as he smiled broadly, "I just couldn't say no to you after that Don."

:-:-:


	3. Turkey Toaster

_Disclaimer: As always! If it sounds familiar, it's not mine._

* * *

Turkey Toaster

"Don?"

Flack and Angell were sitting in the darkened movie theatre, watching the previews before the main show. Digging his hand into the tub of popcorn and keeping his eyes trained on the large screen, Flack leaned his head in and dropped a kiss on her cheek, "Uh-huh?"

"I don't think I can do it anymore."

Snapping his eyes from the screen, Flack stared at her, trying to work out what she couldn't do. Jess had suggested braving the snow to catch the matinee replay of Indiana Jones so he doubted the film was an issue, and furrowing his brow he tried to determine what the problem was. When he didn't acknowledge her statement, Jess dipped her hand into the popcorn and flicked a singled piece at his head to prompt a response. Thinking for another few moments, Flack randomly settled on her hair, "Don't then. I like your hair better when you don't straighten it anyway. It's prettier when it's all wavy."

She sighed as his head turned back to the screen, "I wasn't talking about my hair."

Finally giving the brunette his full attention, Flack's eyes widened, "What then? Us?!"

"Don't be a numbskull Don, 'us' is good." Jess gave him a reassuring smile before turning back to the movie snack resting in her lap, "The Squad. I don't think I can do it anymore…I don't think I _want_ to do it anymore."

He had a feeling that this conversation was going to happen. Where she used to revel in the crime and cases, nowadays Jess just rolled her eyes when a call came in. There'd been countless arguments over the past month; she accused him of being unbearably over protective in the Precinct and talked a lot about the things she could have done instead of joining the Force.

Mulling over her statement as he munched on a handful of popcorn, Flack then took a long drink of Coke "Oh?"

"Yeah."

Flack watched her, fixating on the hair he'd commented on. Although he'd stood beside Jess as she'd painstakingly straightened her mane with a flattening iron only a couple of hours earlier, she was absentmindedly twisting a section around her index finger and producing one of the waves he liked so much. "What'd you think you want to do instead then?"

Turning and giving him a half smile, she sighed dreamily "Be with you, somewhere hot, with new stuff to see. We could ditch the Force and go travelling! I've always fancied Australia…"

Jess' alternative plan didn't surprise him much. When she started talking about the things she could have done, Flack had very briefly investigated the Force's policy on sabbaticals; while the time off was possible, there wasn't a hope in hell they could actually afford it.

"Baby, I…"

She cut him off, brushing a gentle kiss on his jaw and shaking her head. "I'm just dreaming Donnie. Bumming around with you would be great but it's just idle fantasy. I'm thinking about putting in for a transfer."

Frowning a little, Flack repeated "A transfer?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, "a transfer. I need something different. A new challenge, colleagues who don't just see me as the cop who got shot…a First Grade who doesn't get in a panic every time I go to a scene." Moving the popcorn tub onto his knees, Jess leaned into Flack, resting her head against his shoulder and stroking a gentle hand over his belly. "I think it'd be good for us both Don. Being in the same Precinct isn't going work, not in the long term. I know you only worry 'cause you care, and I love that do, but it's not good for either of us. You need to start being the mean guy around the squad room again and I need to start enjoying work again. I think we'd be better cops for it."

Nodding slowly, he pulled her close and twisted a few strands of long hair around his own finger. 'Panic' was an over exaggeration on Jess' part but Flack couldn't deny that he did worry, a lot. He'd intervened a few times and placed other officers on cases or details that she should have worked; both Jess and the Captain would have his ass if they knew about it, but it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant knowing she was safe. Deep down, he knew what she was saying made sense - even though he didn't entirely like the idea.

"I'd miss you."

Looking up, she smiled softly at him "You'd barely notice I was gone."

He shook his head fiercely "I'd miss you," before kissing her deeply, "But I'll always be here, and love you, whatever you decide."

:-:

"10-13! Shots fired at Sotheby's – 1334 York Avenue. Requesting assistance from all available units."

Flack's Avalon screeched to a halt and he threw open the door. He'd called Jess under an hour ago, simply to check in and for a chat since she'd left the apartment before he did that morning. While on the line, she'd received a call about a disturbance at a jewelry sale at the auction house and rung off by making a joke about picking out something she liked. Vomiting the Turkey Toaster sandwich he'd only just finished for lunch over the sidewalk without even exiting the vehicle, Flack yanked the door closed and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

By the time Flack arrived at the auction house the block was lined with squad cars, and armed response units, and the negotiator trucks. Barely nine months had passed since the diner shooting, and Jess was due transfer to Cold Case the following week. It couldn't be happening again. Leaping from the car and running towards the glazed building entrance, Flack told himself, and prayed to God, that it couldn't be happening again.

"FLACK!" The mild mannered ME turned CSI could be alarmingly forceful when the need arose. Sprinting after the Detective, Hawkes all but tackled and slammed him into the Crime Lab SUV. "It's over."

Resting his palms against the tailgate, Flack screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head. It couldn't be happening again.

Feeling the bile rising in his throat, Flack managed to keep his remaining stomach contents inside. "Angell's fine. Armed response is securing the scene and she'll be heading out soon. A pair of Bonnie and Clyde wannabes attempted some diamond heist and it all got out of hand, he pulled out his piece and Angell took the shot. We heard it over the radio. Your girl did good Flack."

In the moments after an incident, there was always an eerie silence. It was as if a blanket momentarily draped over the city; sirens and radios and voices all just seemed to halt. Those moments were the worst for Flack, when he could hear his heart beating and blood pumping ringing in his ears.

"Don," Hawkes' voice returned to its normal gentle pitch and he offered a bottle of water along with a stick of gum. Pointing over to the two Detectives exiting the building, the CSI nodded reassuringly "She's fine."

:-:

Flack waited patiently. As EMS checked over Angell and her partner Martinez, as Internal Affairs interviewed the pair about the incident and the weapons discharge, as they filled out paperwork and statements and then as the departmental psychologist de-briefed them. Finally Flack ran out of patience and taking Jess' hand to lead her out of the squad room, he shrugged at the Captain "I'm taking her home…end of story."

Abruptly halting the Avalon for the second time that day, Flack threw the driver's door open and stepped out into rush hour traffic. So far the journey had been made in silence; neither had spoken and Jess hadn't reached for the radio. Even as he crouched by the passenger side and held her in his arms, Flack remained silent. He held Jess so tightly that she struggled to breath and the hand he'd knotted in her hair pulled at the roots.

"I was scared."

Wrapping his arms even tighter, Flack nodded, feeling her heart beating against his body. "You're safe now."

:-:

Being faced with the barrel of gun hadn't been what scared Angell during the incident. The Bonnie and Clyde pair were just kids, although the larceny attempt was ambitious it was completely amateur, but the gun wielding guy wasn't going to back down. Drawing her weapon and pulling the trigger – confronting her one fear – was what'd scared Jess. Although Flack had forced her into the range in the early days and she'd passed the mandatory weapons re-certification with ease, actually putting the skills into practice filled Angell with dread. Taking a life, when she'd come so close to death. From her first day back on the job, she'd been terrified of choking when it came time to use her gun. It was a fear she couldn't rationalize but one that'd kept her awake at night.

Oblivious to the car horns and stares from passers-by they were attracting, Flack and Angell clung to each other. Finally, Flack loosened his arms enough to lean back and press a tender kiss to her lips.

"I didn't choke." Looking up at him, Jess' voice was small, almost seeking approval.

"I didn't ever think you would."

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his for some time, before finally opening them again and allowing brown and blue to meet. "Donnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you do something for me?"

Releasing his arms and sitting back on his heels, Flack nodded "'Course."

"Take me home and make love to me? Then take me out, somewhere with loud music and liquor and dancing?"

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he nodded again, needing to forget the day as much as she did, "There's nothing I'd rather do."

:-:-:


	4. Puppy Love

_Disclaimer: If you've heard about it, it's not mine_

_A/N: Watching the first wee bit of the Pay Up replay on CBS brought on some extra sickly slush._

* * *

Puppy Love

Flack paused in the doorway, surveying the scene in the apartment. No matter how strong and tough and sexy Jess was, she was as equally feminine and girly. Sitting crossed leg on the floor, her hair was in two long pigtails and she wore running pants with a ratty Peanuts t-shirt. An old episode of Friends showed on the television but her attention was focused on the black Labrador who lolled beside her.

"Got a little friend over to play?" Smirking in amusement as he crouched down, Flack stole a kiss and scratched the dog's ears.

Nodding happily, Jess petted the animal some more, "Yup. My old man's out on a hot date tonight – an RN called Maggie, although he was a bit cagey about how they met – so I took Inca for a run and brought her back here. I didn't want the poor puppy to be lonely later."

Although she wasn't one to go in for pink or ruffles or such things, Flack knew that Jess had been pre-programmed with the girly genes that virtually all women seemed to possess; an inability to pass a baby or puppy with stopping to coo, an unhealthy obsession with clothes, a need to leave Bath & Body Works with nothing less than three hand soaps, three moisturizers and a lip gloss, and a complete ineptitude when it came to rebooting Tivo.

:-:

"How's the crazy world of New York's unsolved crime?" Flack hurled the Frisbee across the park and watched as Inca galloped after it. If only human life could be happily fulfilled with chasing back and forth after a rubber Frisbee. The evening air was still bitterly cold for early spring and Jess hadn't yet given up the woolen beanie pulled low on her ears.

Rewarding the promptly returned toy with a beef flavored treat before launching it once more, Angell laughed out loud. "Crazy! I was called to a construction site this morning – an old bank that's being converted into apartments – where they'd discovered a couple of bodies behind a wall. Got there and discovered that 'a couple of bodies' were actually 'a pair of screwing mummies'." Laughing again as Flack gagged in disgust, Jess held up her hands. "I swear to God, screwing mummies! I'll e-mail you the scene photos. Gross, but something different from the usual crazy."

"Man, that's so wrong!" Flack shook his head and shuddered at the thought, "And I thought Cold Case would just be dusty paperwork and unsolved homicides."

:-:

'Dusty paperwork and unsolved homicides' had been the opinion of most when Jess announced her decision to transfer to the NYPD Cold Case unit. When she'd broached the subject of a transfer with the Captain, he'd looked disappointed but nodded understandingly. Showing a compassionate side that Jess didn't even know existed, the Captain had treated her request with nothing but respect and admiration. "I'll be sorry to lose you Angell; you're a damn fine Detective. With everything you've been through, you're a credit to the force and you make us all – especially that old man and that boyfriend of yours – proud. Roy Anderson, an old buddy of mine, is looking for a new recruit for his Cold Case team. Don't make that face Angell, I think you'd like him and the work they do. And a tenacious new Second Grade is just what he needs. I'll give him a call…"

The Cold Case unit commanded the basement level of a large precinct building across town. Far smaller than the Homicide squad with only five Detectives, the unit was run by a dry witted and stern former US Army Military policeman, Captain Roy Anderson. Jess had found herself oddly drawn to the Captain and accepted a three month trial transfer on the spot.

Although Flack had had his reservations about the Cold Case unit, he'd kept his opinion to himself and supported her move. A few weeks into the transfer, his doubts had been proved far wide of the mark as he saw glimpses of the Jess that hadn't been seen in a long time re-emerge – zest and passion and satisfaction in police work.

:-:

Seeing the irritated look Jess threw him, Flack flashed back one of his boyish grins. The kind he used when he wanted something, or to dig himself out of a hole. "Tell me more about your copulating corpses, please?!"

"Jeez Flack! That's a crap joke even for you!" Rolling her eyes, Jess called for the dog and snapped on her leash, "Come on trouble – you too puppy, I'm beginning to lose feeling in my feet. I'll tell you about the mummies on the way to Starbucks."

Flack loitered outside of the coffee shop in the cold with the dog while Jess queued inside for lattes. When she reappeared, he kept hold of the leash so she could hold her coffee in one hand and keep the other warm in her pocket.

"We should get a dog."

"Huh?" Flack frowned; there were few women in the world that could move so quickly from corpses to coffee to canine. "We don't have room for a dog J. When you bring that damn mutt of your old man's over it takes over the whole apartment."

Giving him a look of disbelief, Jess shook her head. "Well duh! I didn't mean now Don, I meant when we had a house with a yard and stuff. And don't call Inca 'that damn mutt'."

"We're having a house with a yard and stuff?"

"We'll need to one day." She nodded thoughtfully, "Having a baby in a two bed apartment would be fine for a while but we'll need somewhere bigger eventually – somewhere outside the city. I want our kids to have a yard to play in, and be able to learn to ride their bike on the sidewalk, and walk to school and things. That's what I had as a kid and so did you. And a dog would be good too."

Grinning through the darkness, Flack stole a glance at Jess. They'd discussed children and agreed that they'd come along one day, but specific details like walking to school and dogs had never cropped up before. It wasn't until he met Jess Angell that Flack actually saw himself being both a husband and Father; doing the comfortable things he'd done with his own parents. He longed for the day he could teach his children to ride bicycles and help with homework, fix things around the house and take vacations to the beach to build sandcastles.

"A dog takes of lot of work Jessie," he teased with a faux serious tone, "Remember, there'll be all those kids to look after, and me! I'll always need my staples – food and sex and hockey and beer."

Angell nodded thoughtfully again. About to open her mouth to reply sensibly, Flack's joking sank in and she elbowed him instead. "Watch it buddy! I can withhold each and every one of those staples…"

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Flack backtracked quickly. "Please don't," he flashed another grin and a pout for good measure. "I like the sound of kids and house and yard and a dog. But a proper dog though, not one of those fluffy rat like things."

"Sure. A 'proper' dog – something nice and manly for you!"

Flack grinned at her, in contentment and desire, until her cheeks flushed and she looked away. "Don't gawk Don, it's rude," Jess chided, moving to walk on, her awkwardness at the conversation she'd started blatantly clear.

Juggling the cup and dog, he grabbed her arm, "Hey!" Rolling her eyes, Jess focused on the Labrador sitting patiently beside them. "Hey! Look at me Jess."

It wasn't until Flack raised her chin with a gentle forefinger that she finally met his gaze. "I want to have kids and a house and yard and a dog…all with you." Chuckling kindly at Jess' still flushed cheeks, Flack leaned in to brush a gentle kiss to her lips before whispering devilishly against her ear "And right now, I want to go home and have you look after one of my staples…"

:-:-:


	5. Celebrate

_Disclaimer: Nothing familiar belongs to me_

* * *

Celebrate

"Hey Stel'. Angell's not in your lab is she? Not seen her at all today…nah, no reason. Yeah, everything's fine. Speak to you later."

Dropping his cell phone onto the countertop, Flack frowned in thought. It wasn't that he was worried about Jess' whereabouts per se; it was just that he couldn't track her down. When he'd called her Precinct, the clerk on the Cold Case floor had told him that Detective Angell left for the day some time ago. She'd used an accusing tone, as if it were Flack's fault, when she'd noted that the Detective had been unusually quiet all day.

With her cell going straight to voicemail and her sneakers abandoned by the door of their empty apartment – suggesting she was neither running or at the gym – Flack had started investigating other possibilities. Jess didn't appear to be any of the obvious late afternoon haunts – home, the Precinct or lab, visiting her old man, running or at the gym, or with one of her countless friends.

Angell had been quiet for a few days in fact, lost in deep thought, although he was confident of the reason. Pulling on his jacket and retracing his steps to the sidewalk in front of their apartment, Flack paused. There were several outlets Jess used to collect her thoughts. Running, although the evidence suggested this wasn't her choice on this occasion; flexing her credit card in a shoe or lingerie store, although he had a feeling that this wouldn't be her choice either; or staring at the bottom of a Stolichnaya bottle. Although the last option resulted in a foul mood and raging hangover the following morning, Flack suspected, that under the circumstances, it was the most probable.

Pushing open the heavy door to the watering hole, Flack scanned the room. It was a comfortable neighborhood bar, the kind in which staff and regulars chatted with ease, and where Jess had been frequenting since she'd moved into the apartment. Since starting to date Jess and then moving into her apartment, Flack had become another of the regulars well enough acquainted with Marty the owner to know that there was always a seat at the bar, good beer and discretion.

Catching Marty's eye from the doorway Flack raised an eyebrow, which was answered with a head nodded towards the end of the bar, and both a beer and measure of Jameson waiting when he reached the spot. Jess was absentmindedly rocking her empty glass back and forth, while staring hard at the bar. Raising an eyebrow at Marty for a second time, Flack was answered with a look which he took to mean 'she's been here for a while'. She appeared completely oblivious when he slid onto the high stool next to her, so he chose to drink in silence.

It took until a second round was placed in front of Flack and another glass was set down beside her for Jess to speak. "I'm celebrating." Her eyes didn't move from the bar and her tone was impassive, "And this is only my second, so don't start."

Flack finished the second round without word, and signaled to Marty for a third. "What are we celebrating?" He knew what had brought on the mid-week drinking but asked the question anyway.

"Me. Being shot. Not dying. That kind of thing…"

:-:

It was exactly a year to the day of the Tillery Diner shooting. Despite a rocky first few months and a spattering of fall-outs about it along the way, Jess was as good as back to her old self. The incident had understandably changed her, nobody doubted that it wouldn't, but for the most part she left it in the past. Flack and Angell periodically talked about both their respective shootings and bombings – commiserating over troublesome scars, sharing nightmares and confessing their fears.

Flack had indulged in a drinking binge on the first anniversary of the bombing too, although more co-incidental than deliberate, it'd been accompanied by a rowdy afternoon of football and a handful of friends. Unlike Jess, he had almost no memory of the incident; the space between walking into the office block and waking up in hospital was just a hazy jumble. She on the other hand had very vivid memories and could give a chillingly accurate account of events.

Nodding glumly, Flack was at a loss of what to say. There were no words to console her, to fix the thoughts in her head or the feelings she had buried inside. "You want to drink more? You want to go home?"

For the first time since his arrival, Jess looked up and acknowledged the presence of her blue eyed boy. With a sad half smile, she thought for a second before letting out a long breath. Flack knew her too well. "You know, this time I think drinking might be the answer."

:-:

Opening her eyes and shifting a little, Jess' stomach lurched. Vodka never seemed such a good answer the morning after, although it definitely made you forget for a while. Feeing the satisfying ache in her muscles reminded Angell what else was a good way to forget. Propping herself up on elbows and rubbing a hand over her pillow creased face, she looked over at Flack. He was sprawled across the majority of the bed with the sheets pulled up as far as his hips and an arm thrown over his eyes. "Don," her voice croaked.

Although Flack grunted in reply, he didn't move. "I feel like crap."

"You and me both."

Letting her head drop back onto the pillow, the pair lay in silence as the dawn light began to creep through the blinds. All of a sudden, Flack moved; lifting her with ease so she lay along the length of his body. "There aren't words big enough to explain how glad I am that you're here Jess. You know that, don't you?" Nodding sincerely, she let her forehead rest on his shoulder, "I know."

Flack gently lifted her head up again, brushing back the hair that fell in her face. "And you know how much I love you. That even if you're driving me nuts or giving me a fuck off hangover, I love you so much it sometimes hurts me inside. You know that too, don't you baby?"

The urgency with which her lips crashed onto his told Flack everything he needed to know. "I know," Jess' voice was barely a whisper. "I'm glad we're here Donnie. I..." she paused, trying to find better words but quickly giving up, "I love you a lot." Staring at him sleepily, her eyes then widen and she smirked in amused dismay "I love you even though you were singing Mickey and Sylvia last night – really badly," before collapsing against his body as the painful effects of the night's drinking began to take their toll.

:-:

Flack was grateful for the slow day – the Gods must have been looking down on him. It was already late afternoon and he'd avoided leaving his desk since arriving that morning. Helping Jess drown her sorrows left them both feeling more than a little delicate, although by the time they'd left the apartment she seemed to be working out of her morose state.

"Christ! You look rough."

Looking up and seeing Stella staring down at him, Flack snorted "Thanks Bonesera."

"Seriously Don, you look like crap. Has this got something to do with when you called looking for Jess yesterday? Is she alright? What have you done?"

Flack shook his head and gave her a withering look. "Why do people always assume I've done something? Jess is fine. I'm fine. We're fine. Are you here for a reason or just to break my balls?"

"I'm going to assume it's your time of the month and you're not just being a jackass Flack. I bought you the lab results from the Moran case…"

Only semi listening as Stella ran through the finer details of the Moran case – a bachelor party stunt gone badly wrong – Flack's mind began to wander. Jess had texted and e-mailed at regular intervals throughout the day, promising that she really was fine and not on the brink of a screwed up meltdown. The Gods had also looked favorably on her and brought an equally slow day over at Cold Case, so she'd promised to head over to his Precinct as soon as she got a chance so they could bunk off early. Feeling a gentle hand brush across the back of his neck, Flack's head circled and watched as Jess sank into the seat opposite. She'd brought him coffee and a donut, and slid it over the desk with a reassuring smile.

Stella looked between the pair – where Flack looked rough and tired and his hair seemed even greyer than normal, Jess looked luminous like always and as if she'd just stepped out of a Noxzema commercial. Shaking her head, the CSI continued with her tirade at the lunacy of bachelor parties and questioning why any sane person would actually bury their best friend alive as a prank. When she finally scooped up her paperwork and left the Detectives to it, Flack looked over at Angell with pathetic eyes. "I'm way too old for Wednesday night binging – I still feel like crap. Take me home Jessie."

"Old but hot," she consoled as they walked to the elevator, "You sure you want to go home though, I thought we could do a bit more celebrating tonight?"

Chuckling as Flack blanched, she placed a palm on his unshaven chin. "Don't worry oldie, I'm kidding. My idea of celebrating tonight is snoozing beside you on the sofa and watching some TV."

"Would your idea of celebrating also maybe include making me a stack of those cheesy ham French sandwiches?"

Jess smiled fondly at his hopeful tone and nodded, "Mm-huh, I think it might." Where Flack had looked after her the previous night by keeping a steady of stream of vodka tonics coming her way, tonight he needed cared for in a way that'd leave them both feeling a lot less fragile in the morning.

:-:-:


	6. Love and loathing in Las Vegas

_Disclaimer: If it sounds familiar, it belongs to someone else._

* * *

Love and loathing in Las Vegas

"I've been put on a Special Ops team."

Jess flashed a grin as she set down two plates on the table, "What Special Ops are you going to do clever Detective?"

Not quite returning her grin, Flack tucked into dinner and explained "The Feds have finally got involved in the Henderson case – they're setting up a central investigation and drafting in the lead cop from each key city."

Nodding, Jess threw in a few scathing remarks about the FBI before gesturing for him to continue. The Henderson case had been the bane of Flack's life for months – a well to do business man who had a fondness for strangling expensive blondes after taking them to bed. Manhattan had lost five beauties before Flack picked up the name Jason Henderson, and then linked his girls to dozens of others across the country. Along with his fondness for women, Henderson liked the blackjack table. "The investigation's going to be run from Vegas…"

"Vegas?"

"Yeah, Vegas. It'll only be for while. A month…six weeks at the very most."

"Vegas!"

"Yes, Vegas. You know – that place with bright lights and slots? If I remember rightly, someone not far from me now had a streak of luck last time we went. And then kindly blew her winnings on a _very_ nice dinner for two at the Bellagio."

Jess did a poor job of hiding the clearly unimpressed eyebrow she cocked. "When'd you go?"

"End of the week. But don't look at me like that Jess. A month working in Vegas isn't exactly my idea of fun – hundred degree heat, crappy hotel, long hours…you not being there. I'll fly back up when I can, and you can come down. It's points on the promotion grid and will be over before you know.

:-:

The previous evening when Jess called, their conversation was cut short when Detective Melissa North – a homicide hotshot from LA – had interrupted by telling him they were running late for dinner. The time before that, the perky young field office secretary Kimmy had been particularly stroppy about transferring her to his desk phone, gushing about how busy 'Don' was and that she shouldn't really disturb him. This afternoon when she called, she got his voicemail.

Calmly replacing the telephone receiver, Jess walked to the locker room and closed the door. Scanning the room quickly, she slammed her foot into the trash can and sent it flying, before reeling off a string of profanities. They were only two weeks into the Vegas stint and already it was taking its toll. There wasn't a hope in hell Flack would only be there for a month, and with more leads than they knew what to do with, he wasn't going to be flying back home anytime soon. Since Cold Case were in the throes of closing a string of cases, Jess wasn't going to be flying to Vegas anytime soon either.

Life was lonely and miserable without Don Flack around. There was no one to hold her close at night, to make coffee in the morning, to come home to, or to do the naughty things that brought such ecstasy. The novelty of having the apartment to herself – to sleep without having to fight for the sheets and watch the Oxygen channel without being mocked – wore off quickly.

:-:

Lying back on the lumpy queen size bed, Flack stared blankly at the lifeless beige wall. The hotel room had been 'home' for almost a month and dawn runs along the Strip had become routine. Absentmindedly scrolling through the calls received list on his cell, he saw that Jess' number appeared. Fucking hell! He'd left the cell with the dim-witted secretary during the brief evening tactical meeting, along with explicit instructions to tell him if Detective Jess Angell called. 1am in New York was too late to call her back though.

Flack was sick of the bright lights and noise of Vegas. He missed home, and he missed Jess. In Vegas there was no one to curl across his lap and tuck their head under his chin, to make him laugh, to look after him or to work magic with their mouth and make him forget his mind.

Playing phone tag with Jess was becoming increasingly irritating. One always seemed to be busy when the other called, and the voicemail messages were coming testier by the day. Conversing by text and e-mail had been fine at the start but didn't cut it now.

:-:

"For Christ sake Kimmy! How difficult is it to answer the phone and write down a message?"

The auburn Barbie doll looked at him with wide eyes, her bottom lip wobbling a little. Flack had tried calling Jess when he woke up but with the time difference, she was already busy with something and he got have yet another one-sided conversation with her voicemail.

"I told you – if Detective Angell called when I was in the meeting then tell me. I only left the cell with you for forty damn minutes. Was it that hard?"

Flack knew he was going overboard on the young secretary but didn't care. He'd eaten a lousy hotel breakfast again and was running out of clean shirts. The stifling early morning heat and stack of paperwork waiting for him only added his already surly mood. Kimmy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Giving her one of his most menacing glares, he smirked a little as she fled from her desk in tears.

:-:

"That's some quite girl you've got yourself there." Special Agent Nancy Forrester peered over the shoulder of the NYPD Detective and watched as he stared at a picture on his cell phone. "She's hell of a Detective too by all accounts."

Snapping his head up, Flack looked around at the elegant and imposing Agent. Nancy Forrester was old enough to be his Mother, and just as intimidating as he remembered his Mother being. "I'm the FBI Flack! I probably know more about you – and Ms Angell – than you do yourself," Forrester laughed kindly. "How does she feel about you being down here?"

Flack snorted and shoved the phone back into his pocket, "She's not exactly…happy."

Laughing again, Forrester nodded. "Very diplomatic. My husband was never particularly 'happy' with the travelling I did at your age either. And to this day, he's still pissed when I'm in the office at," she checked her watch, "eleven on a Monday night. Go back to your hotel Detective, you look exhausted."

"Thanks Ma'am," Flack nodded and gave her a weary smile. "Goodnight."

"You too," Agent Forrester called from the doorway. "And Detective? Apologize to Kimmy in the morning and she'll arrange weekend flights to New York for you. Although I do understand the pressure everyone is under, I won't tolerate big city officers throwing their weight around."

:-:

It wasn't that Flack was above apologizing to perky little Kimmy, or that he didn't desperately want the weekend flights Forrester offered. It was just that he got caught up in some daytime surveillance. Jason Henderson had been tracked to a table in the MGM Grand and Flack had drawn the short straw; to sit at the bar, or a table, and keep tabs on the suspected serial killer while the team continued working on the watertight case they were building against him.

Drinking and gambling on his own time would have been a fine way to waste a Tuesday, but when the drinks were limited to Coke without the Jack and the FBI allowance didn't stretch further than a few low key games, it was as boring as hell. Henderson finally gave up sometime around dinner time and headed back out onto the Strip, into the waiting watch of two local undercover officers. Silently thanking God and celebrating the end of his day's torture with an illicit on-the-clock beer, Flack tried to decide whether to head back to his desk or hotel. The desk was where he should go, but the hotel was a more welcoming prospect. Pulling out his cell to report back to Forrester's number two, he noticed the inbox alert flashing. How'd he missed a text from Jess?

'_Cs Palace Rm 12103. Key at desk.'_

Suddenly, there was a third option which won hands down.

:-:

Jess stood in front of the window, staring out at the setting sun. She'd paid off a few vacation days taken at short notice by working a double. The double, which ended around dawn, coupled with a five hour flight sitting next to a screaming toddler had left her exhausted, so much so she barely noticed as the door clicked open or as soft footsteps crept across the dimly lit room.

Sliding an arm around her waist, Flack inhaled the comforting scent of Jess' shampoo before tugging back the hotel robe she wore and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." She turned around and lost herself in his piercing blue eyes, and without smiling, pulled the cord of the robe to allow it to fall to the ground.

The resentment and animosity that had built up over the time apart took only a few seconds to be put aside.

Her breath quickened as he ran his fingers through her hair and across her face. Slowly he moved his hands to her body and watched her eyes as he traced every contour. Although her body was so familiar, with every scar and curve and patch of perfect creamy skin ingrained in his mind, it was always so alluring and erotic. Feeling and tasting and smelling her arousal left him breathless. And her hand pushing him back towards the bed and husky voice instructing "Fuck me Flack," was the last coherent thing he could remember.

As they lay, tangled and damp, Flack felt her body press closer to his and his arm tighten around her. There'd been an almost desperation in their need for each other, and although they both knew there were things to talk about, they'd wordlessly agreed to leave them until morning.

:-:-:


	7. Domestic God

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, I don't iron and I don't have a clue how to fix the darn formating_

* * *

Domestic God

Ironing was one of the few household chores that Jess Angell refused to undertake. "It's your shirt Flack – if you want some woman to wash _and_ iron it for you, go see the Italian Mama in the cleaners on the corner. We've had this conversation before and the answer's never going to change. Me cook, you iron – end of story! There's plenty of tasty treats in the kitchen to keep your belly happy over the next few days when I'm gone and a whole heap of stuff there in the laundry pile to keep you out of trouble."

Flack smirked as the fiery brunette standing in front of him stood her ground, "You won't even do one shirt before you leave Jessie? Please? For me?" Enjoying goading her, Flack pushed the iron along the countertop a little "I'll do that thing I know you like…that thing that gets you all hot and bothered…" Laughing as Jess' expression softened from irritated to contemplative of his bribe, he stretched over and plucked a shirt from the offending pile. "If you stop fighting and let me get on with my ironing Angell, there might be just enough time to fit that other thing in this morning too!"

:-:

Just as he was reaching for the last shirt and only part of the way through a Deadliest Catch marathon on Discovery, the buzzer sounded and Stella's disembodied voice told him to "Hurry up and let me in!"

Stretching up to brush a kiss to his cheek, Stella raised an amused eyebrow at the neat row of shirts. "Angell has trained you _so _well! Did you even used to own an iron Flack?!" she teased, before asking "Where is Jess anyway? Out partying?"

"Nah, she's staying out of town tonight," Flack shook his head. "They were exhuming a John Doe and she was speaking to the local ME. Some guy – single stab wound to the chest – found in his car in the early 70s. She's tied it back to a couple of other similar cases and finally got a court order to run a second autopsy."

Making a face at the prospect of an exhumation in the middle of winter, Stella asked "So, want to have dinner with me since your girl's away?"

Giving her a wide grin, he nodded "Sure Stel' - you'll always be my favorite Greek dinner date after all!"

:-:

Flack watched with a little confusion as the CSI began poking around in the kitchen. "Looking for something?"

"Yeah, where are your take-out menus? Is the food good in this neighborhood?"

"There's good pizza and Chinese, but I'll make dinner Stella. Don't want you telling people you come all the way over to visit and I make you eat take-out."

"_You'll _make dinner Flack?!" Stella smirked, "You do know that I still don't believe breakfast counts as an evening meal?!"

Pushing past her and towards the fridge, Flack scowled "I can cook…I'm a good cook."

"Sure Don!" she nodded, peering over his shoulder at the dish of chicken casserole with Jess' neatly handwritten label he held in his hand, "Throwing what your girlfriend makes into the microwave _totally _makes you a 'good cook'!"

:-:

Watching as he diligently laid the table, sliced bread and made salad, poured wine and served up steaming platefuls, Stella smiled fondly.

"What?"

"You boys have really grown up over the past couple of years…"

Looking blankly, Flack raised an eyebrow "Which boys?"

"You and Messer," she grinned. "I was round seeing Lindsay a couple of days ago. Danny was in a tizzy over his Panettone and Lucy's angel costume for the daycare nativity. And here you are. In on a Thursday night, busy with your ironing and quite domesticated. I remember the days when the pair of you would be out terrorizing the town and calling me to bail you out!"

"Jeez" he snorted, "Is he still going on about that costume! He was over here the other week asking me about it…how the hell would I know how to make a halo out of tinsel for a baby. But you know something? It turns out that Google _really _does have all the answers!"

Laughing helplessly at the mental image of a First Grade Detective and a CSI puzzling over tinsel, a halo and a toddler, Stella thought it was safest just to keep eating.

:-:

Over one of Jess' homemade meals, the remainder of a carton of Rocky Road ice-cream and too many glasses of Pinot Grigio, he and Stella covered Lab and Precinct politics and gossip, countless stories in the news, the Messers and Sheldon Hawkes, before reaching their own lives.

"So Don. Jess? Tell me why it is, exactly, that you've not asked the girl to marry you yet?"

Emptying the last of the bottle into the two glasses, he gave her an exasperated sigh "Believe me Bonasera, you _do not_ want to go there."

"You've asked her?!" Stella leaned forward with a greedy-for-gossip wide eyed look, "Tell your Aunty Stel' all about it!"

Shaking his head, Flack tried staring her out, giving up after only a few seconds and admitting "Yeah, I asked her. She didn't think I was being serious though…"

Seeing his glum expression, she rubbed a comforting hand across his arm. "The next time I ask, she'll damn well know how serious I am. But enough about me – you and Mac Taylor?"

"We're just friends," Stella nodded quickly, ignoring his snort of laughter, "That's all."

"Just friends?! Sure Stella, friends who spend all their time together and stay over at each other's apartments most nights? I'm a cop, remember?! Nothing gets past me."

Narrowing her eyes, Stella stared at him in silence for a few minutes before randomly offering "Did you hear that Lab is having a night out at the start January? A sort of belated Christmas and New Years thing. We're going to some Mexican place that does salsa dancing too. It'll be good – you and Jess should come too."

:-:

Despite suggesting that she spend the night since the snow was beginning to fall heavily, Stella was firm in her decision to go home. Watching as she clambered into a familiar black SUV and kissed the driver, he tapped on the window pane and gave her smirk then an 'I'm Watching You' gesture.

Chuckling at the evening conversation, Flack methodically began tidying the kitchen before checking his cell and texting Jess; grinning as she swiftly replied with a goodnight message and telling him that she'd be home the next day.

:-:

Stealing into the silent bedroom long before dawn, Jess stripped down to her camisole and panties before shivering in the cool night air. "Don? You awake?"

He groaned a little and shook his head, "No," before burrowing further under the covers.

"Don!" Her whisper grew far louder and she gave him a gentle shove, "Shift over and give me the warm bit!"

As he shook his head a second time, Jess slipped a cold hand under the covers and pressed it against his bare torso. Yelping "Christ!" he threw back the quilts and pulled her into bed, covering them again quickly, "Why can't you be normal and get into bed quietly woman?!"

Laughing softly at his protests, she eased herself along him, pressing their bodies together "Because you'd be bored if I was normal!"

"Perhaps," he scowled, before pulling them deeper into the warmth and kissing her sleepily. "Hey gorgeous, I didn't think you'd be back until later."

Wriggling so she was even closer to his body, she smiled softly "Hey. Yeah, we'd been going to drive down after breakfast but…change of plan."

"Did you miss me or something?!"

"Mm, or something," she nodded with a laugh, pulling him close for another kiss.

He had almost fallen asleep again, lulled by the sensation of her fingers tracing along the jagged scar on his abdomen. As her hand slowed, he assumed she'd fallen asleep and pressed a kiss to her head that rested on his shoulder.

"Don?" Her voice was quiet and tired, "I don't like exhuming bodies. It's cold and miserable and skanky. And the creepy corner's assistant kept staring at my ass. When I go, I'm going to get myself cremated just to make damn sure no one can dig me up. What'd you do last night?"

He pulled her closer, chiding "This is crap pillow talk baby. Shut up about exhuming bodies and what you're going to do when you 'go'. I finished all the ironing like a good slave and Stella came over for dinner. She thinks the thing she's got going with Taylor is still a secret and asked if we wanted to go their Lab night out after the holidays. It involves tequila and dancing, so I said you'd be there. Now, either stop yakking and let me go back sleep or give me your good talk!"

:-:-:


	8. Out of the Darkness

_Wow, I've not updated this for ages! Vegas, a hectic workload and a little accident have been taking up more of my time than I thought._

_As always, if it sounds familar - it's not mine!_

* * *

Out of the darkness

"I've just spent the past two hours canvassing an apartment block on the Upper East."

Yawning widely, Jess smiled at the sheer disgust in Flack's voice and sleepily countered, "Lucky you! I've just spent the past two hours snoozing."

"I was yelled by 'staff' and one numbnut is going to report me to the Commissioner. And I interrupted a seniors' swingers party – which was nasty."

She chortled softly before teasing, "I'm warm and comfortable in bed. And I've got all the covers to myself instead of having a certain blue eyed snorer hog them."

"I don't snore. But you should think about coming back to Homicide Jessie, bet you don't get fun nights like mine over at Cold Case."

"You sound like a freight train sometimes Flack – you snore. And you only want me back on Homicide 'cause you think you might get me into that storage room again!"

Flack growled deeply, "Christ, one of the hottest things I've ever seen was in that storage room."

Just as Jess finally fully awoke, there was a pause at the other end of the telephone and muffled voices. "Crap, I've got to go baby. Now you've brought that storage room up, I want a replay sometime."

"We'll see about that! Night Don, see you later."

"Night."

:-:

Flack was aware that there was some kind of commotion in the apartment but having only fallen into bed an hour ago, was too asleep to fully register the goings on. There was some banging on the door, and then a whiny voice calling something that sounded like "Jess? You and the copper better quit whatever you're doing – I need your help!"

As the light was flicked on and the smell of food filled the room, he finally lifted his head from the pillow to see Jess' friend Ali McGregor hovering in the doorway and snarled "For fuck sake! I let you keep that key for emergencies McGregor. EMERGENCIES!"

"Shut up Flack!"

Scowling at the two women as they chorused their rebuke, Flack turned over in irritation and pulled the sheets over his head to drown out the voices. Having your girlfriend's friend let herself in your apartment and then appear in your bedroom surely must be wrong? Jess patted his ass affectionately and dropped a kiss on his head through the sheets, "Shhh Don, go back to sleep. I'll take Ali out for breakfast so we don't disturb you. She brought you McMuffins though – to say sorry for waking you up."

"Christ, this is so wrong. Go! Go talk about chick stuff. But there'd better be a least two of those McMuffins…"

:-:

Don Flack had known from an early age that girls and guys were different. Girls talked about stuff and guys didn't. Simple.

As he'd got older the pattern didn't change. Girls met up with their girlfriends, or sisters, or whoever and talked. They talked about their feelings, about their days, about what was good and bad, and a whole heap of things he didn't care about. It was how they dealt with life and how they seemed to unwind. While Jess was cool and laid back and a tough cop who could kick his ass, she was no different from other women when it came to talking. And no different when it came to understanding that guys didn't talk.

:-:

Having spent his night dealing with the gruesome murder of a woman and her children, and with Jess missing in girlie action, Flack settled into his easy chair with the Die Hard box set, a six pack of beer and enough cereal to see him through the films. Sure, it was just turning eleven and beer before lunch usually wasn't a good move, but sometimes it came down to a case of 'needs must'.

By the time Jess arrived home, Flack had worked his way through Bruce Willis destroying a high rise and was engrossed in watching him plotting to take down a 747. He'd eaten most of a box of Cheerios and drunk only half of the beer.

He watched her walk across the room, frowning a little at the scene, before plopping onto the arm of his chair and kissing him gently. Jess silently watched a few minutes of the film before taking a handful of Cheerios from the packet and washing them down with mouthful of his now slightly tepid beer.

"I stopped off at the Lab on the way back. Heard about your case last night." She didn't turn to look at him but he knew what she was going to say next. "Do you want to talk about it Donnie?"

Why couldn't women just accept that guys didn't talk? Men accepted that women talked about things and watched annoying shows like Jon and Kate Plus 8. Men even accepted when their films and Xboxes were relegated to the little television in the bedroom. Why couldn't women accept the things guys did? Like watching films with guns and fighting and explosions.

Shaking his head and lifting the beer bottle from her hand, Flack muttered "Nope."

Jess glanced from the screen to the impassive look on his face, and wondered out loud "How can you watch this stuff after seeing what you did last night?"

He knew Jess liked action films – her four brothers had schooled her well – but also knew how fond of trashy chick-flicks she was. Just the previous week, they'd ended up watching Titanic after going to the exhibit. It was a film Flack hated; Leonardo and Kate and their 'flying', and Celine Deon drove him crazy. But by the time Jess was sniffing as Rose stared up at Jack from the lowering lifeboat, he could feel an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. That was the problem with chick-flicks and crime scenes where Fathers put a bullet through the head of each of his beautiful little daughters as they slept. He might cry, and crying wasn't something guys did. Crying as you watched your Mother's coffin being lowered into its grave or as you sat at your girlfriend's bedside as her life hung in the balance was one thing, but crying at any other time was quite another. Crying involved facing his emotions and that wasn't really something Flack wanted to do.

:-:

"It's crap…just crap."

Not entirely sure quite what Flack was calling crap, Jess nodded a little warily.

"What the fuck possesses you to put a slug in your kids' head? What the fuck does that solve? It's fucking crap. Didn't the asshole know how lucky he was? He had everything. Wife, family, house, money, future…everything. You know why he did it?" Flack didn't wait for a response before continuing with his unexpected rant. "His wife found out about his girlfriend and told him she'd leave with the kids unless he sorted it out. He didn't want to give up the girlfriend and didn't want the wife to lay down the law – so he shot them. Wife and kids, he just shot them. They were just babies Jess – one was in her crib and the other was in bed with her stuffed animals. Fucking hell! You might drive me mad sometimes – like when your mental friend comes round here at stupid o'clock – but I swear to God, I'd never so much as harm a single hair on your head." Looking at her with a mixture of helplessness, confusion, anger and exhaustion, he asked "What the fuck is wrong with some people?"

Shrugging and shaking her head, "I don't know," Jess slid into his lap and held him tightly. "You're a good man though Don Flack; an honorable and kind and wonderful man. I don't know why there are nutters who'd murder their children, but I do this know this – you're the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and the man I want to raise a family with."

Flack fingered an imaginary spot on her leg and felt that uncomfortable lump in his throat. This was precisely why he watched action films and drank beer after a bad day. Breathing in Jess' comforting scent, he muttered "I just want to watch Die Hard baby. Please? This is a good bit."

Smiling and kissing him softly, she nodded in agreement before focusing on the screen, "Yeah, this is a good bit."


End file.
